


The things that we could be

by Elyf_Sinfonia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Description of wound, Doctor!Reader, F/M, Kissing, Kylo uses the Force on you, Love Confessions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, he's sorry though, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyf_Sinfonia/pseuds/Elyf_Sinfonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How soon can you get this settled?” he demanded, gesturing with his chin at the wound as if it were an irritating problem instead of his own lacerated flesh. </p><p>She glanced at the wound again. “Half an hour?” she estimated. </p><p>“Not quick enough.”</p><p>In which you are a doctor serving in the First Order, Kylo Ren is a difficult patient and an even more difficult man to have feelings for, and things may not be exactly as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The things that we could be

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's Kylo Ren trash? Me. 
> 
> So have this little imagine, and hope you enjoy it. :) 
> 
> (For anyone wondering, this is NOT the wound he sustains at the end of TFA) 
> 
> Y/N = your name  
> L/N = your last name

“I told you not to beat on your wounds anymore.” (Y/N) sighed, looking down at the bloody mess that would no doubt have looked a lot better if her stubborn patient had taken her advice and not persisted in his baffling habit of pounding on the wounds he sustained in battle. “Asked.” she amended hastily, noticing the dark expression on Kylo Ren’s face and remembering his penchant for throwing violent tantrums and his strong dislike of being “told” what to do. “I asked you not to.” Even when wounded, stripped of his helmet and robes, and reclining back on the surgical table, the Commander of the First Order was still extremely intimidating.

He grunted, which (Y/N) took to mean that he was suitably placated and was not about to wreck the medical bay. She really hoped not, because ninety percent of the medical equipment on Starkiller Base was in this room, and without them she wasn’t confident of being able to restore Kylo back to full functioning capacity.

“I apologize.” he said stiffly after a few moments of silence as she prepared drugs and equipment, her back turned to him.

An apology? It was rare to come by from him, but she would take whatever she could get. She knew, within weeks of serving as a medical officer under the First Order, that Kylo Ren was not a man to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. It took three years, however, to realize that this did not necessarily mean he was incapable of gratitude or remorse.

“Umm…well, what’s done is done I guess.” (Y/N) said. “Let me see what I can do.” She bent over the wound and examined it. It was long and deep and extended over his torso, thankfully missing any vital organs or major arteries but still bleeding freely. She piled gauze over the wound and held it there with her gloved hands for a while to stop the bleeding, or at least reduce it.

“How much pa–”

“Seven.” he said through gritted teeth, already anticipating her usual question of how severe his pain was on a scale of one to ten.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow slightly. That was a lot more pain than he was usually willing to admit to. ‘Admit’ being the keyword, because she had seen far worse wounds on him and she had no doubt that he was in just as much pain on those other occasions, if not more. But Kylo Ren was the most stubborn man she had ever met, and seemed to have some kind of pathological aversion to showing any signs of what he perceived to be weakness.

 _It might have been a five if you didn’t beat on it,_ she couldn’t help but think.

“I thought I apologized for that earlier.” he snapped, sounding more resentful than infuriated.

(Y/N) winced as she realized that she had forgotten exactly whom she was treating – or rather, what he was capable of doing. It wasn’t the first time he had used the Force to read her thoughts, but it also wasn’t the first time she had been too distracted and distressed by the sight of his wounds to remember that fact. As a result she was like an open book to him, while he remained closed and impassive. The one-sidedness of it all was what she disliked most about the tentative – well, whatever this was – that they had gradually built up over the years.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that.” she said, trying to sound contrite while really hoping that he would take the hint that _he really should stop reading her mind._ Their relative familiarity did not embolden her enough to state it outright, because he was still Kylo Ren and he was still her superior.

“No? Then perhaps you should stop thinking things you do not want me to hear.”

 _That’s like telling me not to think of a pink elephant,_ she thought.

He smirked at her, which told her that he had gone and invaded her thoughts yet again.

“Sir.” she protested.

He shrugged the shoulder that was further from his wound. “A wounded man must take whatever amusement he can get.” he said, still smirking.

A smug Kylo Ren was always better than a sulking irritable Kylo Ren, especially when he was a patient, so she let it pass. Besides, after years of treating him for a variety of battle wounds and the occasional illness, she was well-used to having her every thought read by him. He seemed to have made a habit of it initially in an attempt to see exactly how bad his prognosis was, because he never believed she was telling the truth, and insisted that she must be playing down a serious situation to make him feel better. Lately, though, he seemed to be doing it just for the fun of it. That is, if Kylo even knew how to have fun.

The blood seemed to have stopped seeping through the gauze beneath her fingers, so she removed it and turned to select an analgesic from the variety available on the medicine trolley. She drew up a higher dose than usual into the syringe, because if Kylo said the pain was bad, it was most definitely very bad.

“You may get sleepy after this.” she said as she injected it into his IV line.

He stiffened at once, almost jerking away from her syringe. “I need to make my report to the Supreme Leader.” he said, tone becoming hard and brittle and losing what little good humour it had earlier.

“You can report to him later.” It came out as more of a plea than a suggestion. Kylo might not look out for himself, but that didn’t mean no one else should. (Y/N), for one, would. The thought of him facing Snoke while still wounded and in pain, answering for his recent failures and more than likely being punished for them, seemed to pain her more than it did him. She knew that she cared for him way more than she should, and way beyond her call of duty as a medical professional, but she couldn’t help it.

“How soon can you get this settled?” he demanded, gesturing with his chin at the wound as if it were an irritating problem instead of his own lacerated flesh.

She glanced at the wound again. “Half an hour?” she estimated.

“Not quick enough.”

(Y/N) decided it was best not to respond, which was her go-to tactic for dealing with Kylo when he was being difficult. More difficult than he usually was, anyway. She dipped fresh gauze into a dish of saline and began to clean his wound, earning a hiss of pain in response.

“You wanted me to be quick, Sir.” she said as innocently as she could. She had no intention of working quicker than she normally would though, in hope that by the time she was done the analgesic would have knocked him out. There was no way he could make any report in this state, and he was going to have his rest even if she had to personally take the blame for the delay.

“Impudent girl.”

She smiled slightly as she dropped the bloodied gauze into the waste bag. It had taken years of acquaintance and familiarity for her to even dare to speak to him in this manner, and to pick up on the subtleties of his tone to know that he was not actually angry when he called her that. To be fair, _anyone_ would know when he was actually angry. So far she had been mostly spared from that, probably because she was not under his direct command and had nothing to screw up on that would warrant his anger. The fact that she had dragged him back to the living on more than one occasion probably helped too.

There was silence in the room as she finished cleaning the wound and injected anaesthetic in the surrounding area.   

“Better?” she asked a few moments after the last dose went in. It had not gone unnoticed by her that Kylo had been gritting his teeth throughout the injections, and that his chest was heaving from the pain. Discreetly she injected a bit more of the analgesic into his IV line. “Everything will go numb after a while.” she added as he took stock of himself, even though he probably knew that by now.

“Better.” he finally said after several moments.

“Okay, then I’ll start suturing.”

He grunted in assent, so she turned away to set up her suture needle, fibre thread, forceps and scissors. Her work would be far quicker if she had an assistant with her, but Kylo disliked being crowded around when he was wounded or ill, with his definition of a crowd being anyone else besides (Y/N), even if the additional presence was a droid. Especially if the additional presence was General Hux, who had on more than one occasion barged in to check on her progress and find fault with the way in which Kylo had executed the mission that had landed him in the medical bay in the first place.

“Does Hux know?” he asked at that moment, and her eyes flickered up from her suturing to look at him. Had he read her mind again? His eyes were clenched shut, as were his fists, so probably not.

“I gave him a brief report before I came in here, Sir.” she said.

Another grunt.

(Y/N) continued with her work.

The wound was deeper than she had thought on her initial assessment. It was probably going to take a bit longer than half an hour. She estimated that she was going to have to close the subcutaneous layer twice over before moving on to the skin. Summoning all her powers of concentration, she steadily sutured away, dabbing gently at the wound with fresh gauze whenever it began to bleed anew.

“You may have a scar.” (Y/N) blurted out ten minutes later, without really thinking. She wasn’t even sure if he would have a scar. She hadn’t even given it any thought yet, and he didn’t usually care either way, but the silence had stretched too long for her to not say anything. The silence between them was usually companionable, or as companionable as it could get with a man like Kylo Ren. But today it was a little stiff, a little awkward and a little too uncomfortable.

His eyes flicked open. “I have many scars.”

“I mean – a new one. From this.” She gestured at his torso with her free hand.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I do not care.”

“Alright then.” she said. “Sir.” she added as an afterthought.

Time passed in silence, as her arms and neck began to ache. Her eyes were dry and strained, and she felt slightly giddy at the thought of the stormtroopers she would have to attend to after this. There were nurses caring for them, but she would have to make her rounds after they were done and ensure everything was in order. It did not help that she had been up all night tending to Captain Phasma, who had been violently sick. Her absence from the field had probably contributed to the failure of the mission that day.  

Slowly, tortuously, (Y/N) finished the sutures layer by layer till she was left with just the skin.

“Besides, you have given me many over the years.” Kylo said suddenly as she was performing the last few stitches.

It took her a few seconds to remember what they had been talking about before (that is if the short exchanges had counted as talking), and her brief delay in answering him caused him to scowl at her. “Scars.” he snapped in clarification, just as she had come to the conclusion herself.

“I’m sorry about that.” she said a little sheepishly. She knew that she did not particularly excel at the aesthetic component of wound suturing, but in her defence most of her patients at Starkiller Base did not really care, given that they were covered in armour most of the time. She shifted her position a little, attempting to make herself more comfortable on the hard stool. Suturing was never a comfortable experience, and it was made worse now by the fact that the wound was on his chest, forcing her to hover over him awkwardly. _At least it was now over_ , she thought with some relief as she cut the thread of the final stitch with her scissors. “But I’m not completely at fault.” she added suddenly. Her exhaustion must have made her deliriously bold.

“Are you insinuating that the fault is my own?” Kylo growled, making as if to rise from his supine position. Her hand flew up instinctively to push him back down, or at least stop him from rising, but he winced in pain at his own sudden action and lay back down, and her hand landed softly on his bare shoulder.

His eyes snapped to hers at once, blazing with shock and something else that she couldn’t quite place. Quickly she drew her hand back as if his skin had burnt her, at the same time that he jerked his shoulder away.

“I’m sorry Sir.” she stammered, her heart thudding in her chest. Suddenly it was her first day at Starkiller Base again, as a nervous doctor-in-training, and Kylo was Kylo Ren, the dangerous and powerful Knight of Ren and Darth-to-be who struck down with his red crossguard lightsaber anyone who displeased him. Years of familiarity vanished as she abandoned her work and rose from the stool, taking a few steps back and desperately wanting to put as much space between herself and Kylo Ren as possible.

Slowly he placed a palm flat on the back of the surgical table, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The suture needle clattered to the floor. (Y/N) was torn between fear for herself and worry that he was going to rip his stitches.

“Why did you place your hand on my person?” he asked. His voice was quiet but she thought she could sense the undertones of danger running through it. And his eyes – he was giving her the look that sent stormtroopers (and even General Hux, on occasion) scampering for cover. She was enormously thankful for the fact that his lightsaber was not in the room or within reach.

“It was an accident. A mistake.” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Why are you standing all the way there against the wall?”

“I…” She was lost for words. _Because I’m afraid you’ll kill me_ was probably not the correct answer. She shouldn’t be giving him any ideas, in case the thought hadn’t occurred to him yet.

“Speak.” he barked, and she almost jumped.

“You were about to get up. I thought you were about to get up.” she said quickly. “I wanted to stop–” _No, that was not the right word to use._ “–to ask you not to.” she amended. “I was afraid you might hurt yourself.”

“That is not what I meant.” he said. His voice was softer now, but the tone was still harsh. “Why have you backed away from me?”

(Y/N) made no answer still. How could she? He must be a lot stupider than he looked, or a lot more sadistic, if he persisted in asking a question to which he must surely know the answer. Who _wouldn’t_ back away from Kylo Ren in a temper? His eyes took on a hard expression as she continued to remain silent. Then suddenly she felt it; she could feel it when she couldn’t before – the slight dizziness in her head and a crushing sensation, as if a band had wound itself around her head and was getting tighter by the second. Her palms hit the wall behind her as she sank down to the ground, the pressure overcoming her. Somewhere at the back of her mind, it registered dimly that whenever he read her thoughts all those other times, he had taken care to do it as painlessly as possible.

But now he had not.

Seconds passed, or it could have been years for all she knew, before the pressure around her head disappeared completely, and she gasped like a drowning girl brought back to the surface.

For a while all she could hear was her own heavy breathing.

Then–

“You fear me.” Kylo Ren’s voice was soft, softer than it had ever been before, and it was – shocked?

“ _What do you think?_ ” she gasped. She should be more afraid of him than ever before, after what had just happened, but for some insane reason she was _less_ afraid – and _more_ angry. In fact, it was the first time in living memory that she had ever been angry at him. Clumsily she clambered to her feet and forced herself to look at him. “After what you just did, did you expect me to be unafraid of you?”

She waited for the eruption that must surely follow her open defiance.

Instead, he stared at her, shell-shocked.

_Well, seeing as he was not going to say anything or kill her just yet…_

“All these years.” she cried. “I have shown you nothing but respect and deference, and I’ve healed you and treated you and saved your life more times than I can count. I even defend you against those who speak ill of you, I genuinely care for you–” _That was probably slightly too much information,_ cried the small voice at the back of her head. Her anger pushed the voice aside. “And I never once objected to you reading my thoughts without my permission.” _Not that she really had a right to, seeing as she was his subordinate._

“I do that to everyone!”

“I thought I might be different!” she retorted, before realizing belatedly what a colossally _stupid_ thing it was to say. Why on earth should she be any different from anyone in Starkiller Base, or indeed anyone in the galaxy? She had no idea where that thought even came from! How long exactly had it been since she started thinking she might be any different to Kylo Ren?

She tried desperately to backtrack. “That was – that was – that was a stupid thing to say–”

“You _are_ different.”

_What?_

“What?” she said, echoing the voice in her head.

“You are different, Dr (Y/N) (L/N).” he said, slowly and with emphasis on each word. It was the first time she ever remembered him calling her by her name. “Of everyone in Starkiller Base, of all my employees, I hold the highest respect for you.”

“ _What?_ ” She was aware that she was beginning to resemble a parrot, but she couldn’t help it. She had never been so stunned in her entire life.

“You are competent in your work, and as you just kindly reminded me, you have saved my life on occasion. You have always treated me with due respect and not out of fear, unlike everyone else here. Is the idea that I respect and treat you differently so difficult to grasp?” he said, a bite of impatience returning to his voice. It was this brief return to his normal self that finally brought her back to her senses.

“I think I actually said… _multiple_ occasions.” she ventured carefully. “I saved your life on multiple occasions.”

For a split second she thought he was about to return to his prior state of rage and fury.

Then he slowly rose from his bed and began to take steps towards her.

“Sir.” she protested. “You might rip your stitches, I haven’t even bandaged you yet–”

“You–” he said, cutting across her as he walked closer and closer. “–are the most–” She tried to back away but found herself directly against the wall. “–infuriating and impertinent being–” he stopped directly in front of her. “–in the entire galaxy.”

_Oh God, why had she never realized how tall he really was? And could he at least put his shirt back on first?_

Then she couldn’t really say anything else, or even think anything else, because a gloved hand had reached out to cup the back of her head, and she was yanked forward, and Kylo Ren’s lips were on hers. It took a few seconds for (Y/N)’s brain to kick into functioning mode and realize that _this was actually happening,_ and another second to summon her wits enough to respond. Then respond she did, with all the passion she never even realized she had for her Commander, wrapping her arms around his neck and boldly dragging her fingers through his raven hair. His kiss was rough, demanding, all-consuming, and yet at the same time clumsy and unsure, as if he had never done this before. _He probably hasn’t,_ she thought dazedly. It was evident in the slightly painful way he grasped her hair, as if not knowing his own strength, and the way his free hand hovered awkwardly for a moment before settling itself at her waist, and then quickly choosing instead to twine his entire arm around it.

Then he pulled back abruptly. “I apologize.” he said, slightly out of breath. “This was a mistake–”

“What? A _mistake_? I swear, if you’re going to take back whatever you just said before–”

“What?” Kylo asked, a hint of a rare smile playing on his lips. “What exactly are you planning to threaten a Knight of Ren with?”

“I will…never stitch another wound for you again.”

The ghost of a smile became more pronounced, a sight so new and so strange to her that she almost lifted her hand to touch his face, marvelling that she had been the one to provoke such a reaction. But before she could even begin to commit the sight to her memory, his face returned to an expression she knew well – brooding, melancholic, frustrated. He turned away and walked back to the bed, standing by it but not sitting, back facing her as if he could not bear to look at her.

“I admit I had convinced myself numerous times that this would be a mistake, every single time I thought about doing it.” he said quietly.

“ _You thought about doing this?_ ”

“Why else would I react the way I did when you touched me?” he demanded, turning around slightly.

“I thought – well, _no one_ ever touches you. I expected you to react badly.” Badly was a light way of putting it.

“And I expected you to be different.” Kylo returned harshly. “You said so yourself – you thought you were different and I felt the same. Every soul here fears me, and I had thought, foolishly, that you were the only one who truly respected me.”

“I do respect you.” (Y/N) protested. “But you’re…you. Of course I would fear you at times.”

He laughed bitterly. “I had assumed that after our years together, that would be long gone. But you backed away from me like everyone would, like everyone _has_ , _all my life_!”

And just like that, what little remained of her anger dissipated, and she felt her heart clench with pain and sympathy and something else foreign; the same feeling she always felt whenever he left the medical bay still half-recovered, clenching his teeth in pain but doing his best to assume an unaffected front, to return to his role of Kylo Ren and the Commander of the First Order – a front he had to put on for Snoke and Hux and everyone else in Starkiller Base.

Slowly she approached him, step by step, gaining courage with each passing moment in which he did not move away from her. She lifted a slightly trembling hand, hovering briefly over his arm before finally placing it gently on the bare skin. He did not jerk back this time, or even stiffen under her fingers.

“No.” she said quietly. “I didn’t. I would never back away from you. No matter how everyone here treats you or what they think of you, I will never back away from you. And...I _do_ feel close to you. I just never knew if you felt the same, or even expected you to.” She felt her cheeks grow hot with the admission, as if she had just told him she loved him.

“I should not have done what I did earlier.” he offered, a little awkwardly. “I was carried away – as I always am – in demanding an answer, and I did what I should not have done. Not to you.”

It was as close to an apology as (Y/N) could expect to get from Kylo Ren, and as close to an acknowledgement and acceptance of her confession as was possible.

“I will not do it again.” he said. “I will not hurt you again. And I hope we can continue as we always were.”

She nodded in response, then realized that he could not see it, and that at that moment neither of them were able to look at the other. _So this was it,_ she thought. In a sort of way, she was flattered that Kylo did respect and appreciate her, and that he had been willing to admit it, after her years of work and devotion to him. And he had acknowledged the closeness they had built over time; the strange relationship that allowed her to pass little teasing remarks while knowing he would not take offence, to appeal to him to take more care of himself, and that allowed him to let his guard down, however slightly, when he was in her presence and no one else’s. And the one thing that stood out the most – the one thought that she would hold on to forever – he did not want her to fear him. Somehow, that meant the most to her, considering that this was a man who seemed to rule with nothing but fear. Not even the slight sting of hearing him call their kiss a mistake when he had been the one to initiate it could take away the small happiness she felt from that. Not even the realization that he had not addressed the kiss at all, and the sinking feeling that came with the understanding that she must now file it away as a distant memory. She couldn’t really ask for more. She couldn’t _expect_ more.

She could only do what she always did.

“Sir.” she said, clearing her throat. “It would please me very much if you could sit back down so I can finish dressing your wound.”

He was surprised enough by the sudden change of topic to turn around to look at her, and she found now that she was able to look back at him. “You did say to continue as we always were.” She gestured at the clean line of stitches that – thank goodness – had somehow managed to stay intact. “And I believe you are still my patient and I still have work to do.”

 

* * *

 

The door to the medical bay opened as (Y/N) was kneeling by the surgical table, sweeping the last of the empty plastic packets and bits of fibre thread into the waste bag.

Her heart clenched when she saw the tall figure of Kylo Ren enter, looking as imposing as ever in his long black robes and his lightsaber returned to its place at his belt. His cowl was gathered around his shoulders and he had left his helmet off. “Have your stitches ripped?” she asked automatically. Her eyes trailed over the waves of his raven hair, which was slightly dishevelled, and his eyes, which had a bit of a wild look in them. She could definitely imagine any number of scenarios leading to the re-opening of his wounds, the worst of which was whatever punishment he had received from Snoke, and the best of which was another of his infamous tantrums.  

“No.” he said shortly. With the back of his boot he kicked the door shut, and strode further into the room, past her, till he was facing the wall. The hem of his long black robes brushed her ankle. “I realized that perhaps part of what I said earlier might have been misunderstood.”

“Which part?” she asked tiredly, refusing to delve back yet again into the memories of their last interaction, as she had been doing for the many hours that had passed since. She could still feel the burn of his lips on hers.

“When I said that I hoped we could continue as we always were, I did not mean… _exactly_ as we always were.”

(Y/N)’s hand paused in the middle of pulling the plastic sheet off the surgical table. Could it be a coincidence that out of everything that had happened, those were the exact words she had been agonizing over?

“No?” she asked, trying her best to maintain a calm façade.

“No.” he said. A few seconds passed, then he turned around abruptly and extended his arm, offering her a gloved hand. She eyed it in suspicion for several seconds before cautiously placing her own hand in it. Strong fingers curled around her hand and she was pulled easily to her feet as if she weighed no more than his lightsaber. He loosened his grip briefly, enough to pull off with his other hand the surgical glove she had been wearing and toss it to the floor, before resuming his firm hold on her. Slowly he drew her closer to him.

“It may be rather out of order.” he said. “But it is what I want.”

“What is, Sir?”

“For starters, you ceasing to call me that in future, but only when we are alone.”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“I have a name.” he said curtly. “I’m sure you are aware of that.”

“Alright.” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “And when are we going to be alone…Kylo?”

Was it her imagination, or did the grip on her hand tighten when she said his name?

“When I am wounded or ill, of course. And also when I want to see you – for other reasons – and for no reason at all.”

“Reasons.” she repeated.

“Reasons.” he affirmed, and when she looked up into his face she saw the hint of a smile. The last of her inhibitions vanished.

“Would it be too much to ask what these reasons are?” she asked, smiling as well, and moved closer to him of her own accord.

He tugged her closer still. “No.” he said, and they were so close that she could feel his breath on her face. “But why should I tell them all to you now, when we have time?” He released her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist in a position reminiscent of their first kiss.  

“Hmmm.” she said, resting a hand on his chest and idly fingering the hem of his cowl. “At least tell me one.”

“Are you giving your Commander an order?”

“Maybe.”

“Impudent girl.” he said, closing the last inch between them as his lips descended on hers.

Being a doctor for the First Order was perhaps not such a thankless job after all.   


End file.
